


Hurt So Good

by kiyarasabel



Series: Life Goes On [3]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: M/M, Magical Pregnancy, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 21:39:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9347426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyarasabel/pseuds/kiyarasabel
Summary: I'm a sucker for these two but I don't plan on having sex scenes in the next installments of the series, so this is a good intermission as I work on rounding the story out.TL;DR Glanni wants a baby





	

“Íþró, I want a baby.” Glanni whined.

“I thought you weren't interested in changeling schemes.” The knight responded, sitting at the side of the bed polishing his armor.

“Don't be an ass, Íþró, I want you to fuck a baby into me like our brothers did to each other.”

“They aren't our brothers.” He refuted. Glanni just stared at him, unimpressed. “Besides, they don't even know how it happened to them.”

“You gotta go into rut and make it trigger me into a heat.” Glanni grinned.

“That doesn't sound advisable. I'm pretty sure that it was more than that.” 

“Gods, what do I have to do to convince a beefy elf to knock me up? I'd try to seduce your brother if I thought I could get away with it.” Glanni bemoaned.

That was the final straw for Íþróttaálfurinn, throwing his cuirass down with a loud clank. “Fine, I'll go into rut for you just to shut you up. It probably won't work, but if you're so desperate to try, at least you'll be quiet about it for awhile.”

“You're the best, babe.” Glanni kissed him soundly and then skipped off presumably to gather his notes on the magic required.

Íþróttaálfurinn strode off to truly consider the situation. Glanni didn't really deserve the responsibility of a child and it was doubly so a privilege that Íþróttaálfurinn shouldn't be granted. He was reasonably certain nothing would come of it and he was willing to lose a week of time. 

Glanni had been persistent about the subject for some time now, at least since he first learned of the possibility and Íþróttaálfurinn knew that even Isan had refused. On one hand the fact that Glanni asked Isan before him rankled, but on the other, it had been while he'd been unavailable, in fact trapped in Isan's custody. He considered that in a certain light, he really would appreciate the opportunity to give Glanni something the other would not.

As if he'd spoken the devil's name, a shadow solidified before him. “Tell me you didn't.”

“Didn't what?” Íþróttaálfurinn grinned, enjoying the distress visible on the older elf's face.

“Glanni's pulling out all the information he compiled on fertility magic. He says he's going to make you rut.”

“What makes you think that I have any say in the matter?” Íþróttaálfurinn shrugged.

“Because I know Glanni considers it important that you have a say in your life even though you never let him make decisions while you were the one in power.”

“Why do you care if I rut anyway?”

“Glanni leads the Court, the Court can't be spared a week without its ruler.” Isan hissed. Íþróttaálfurinn noted that the advisor was agitated enough that his gills were flexing.

Íþróttaálfurinn laughed. “Glanni always speaks so highly of your skills, certainly you can handle his duties for a week.”

“It won't be just a week. Glanni already knows how to make himself receptive. Just because he can't create the conditions that caused your brothers to change doesn't mean that he didn't find another solution.”

That actually gave Íþróttaálfurinn pause. “So... He will... Is...” He felt a hot flush coming over him, realizing the possibility, visualizing Glanni with his baby.

“Fuck.” Spat Isan. “He didn't even need to ask you, he just knew you were already starting.”

“Starting what?”

“I should have known, the territoriality, increased aggression, possessiveness, I just thought that was who you were.” The shadow grumbled as he faded away.

“Hey, lover boy.” Íþróttaálfurinn swayed as the scent and sight of Glanni reached him.

“Oh... I'm already entering rut aren't I?”

“Yeah, I was seeing the signs. Had to speed up the work I was doing on myself to try and make us sync.”

“We should get to... Somewhere else...” He could feel his resolve slipping.

“Oh Íþró, you think I haven't wanted you to take me against my throne.” The Lord bent over the arm, slipping his skirt up his leg. Íþróttaálfurinn didn't even register moving as he rushed to take his mate.

Glanni was always a delectable sight, artfully presenting his slender frame to catch attention, Íþróttaálfurinn’s hunger to claim him, the knowledge that he was leaving a permanent mark, that Glanni had specifically chosen and desired him drove his primal urges wild. The heady scent of Glanni's magically induced heat, the slick softness of his new anatomy, the sight of the long back draped in front of him. Íþróttaálfurinn lost all awareness but the need to ravage his beautiful willing mate, gasping and moaning his name, crying out in pleasure.

He pounded relentlessly, his body shuddering as the tension built within him, his mate sagging limply with the exhaustion of satiety. He never thought it would be like this, rutting into a mate with the intent to breed. That Glanni wanted to be bred by him. Nothing in his life or training, never in his imaginings had he thought this was who he would become. He came with a growl, pushing through each spasm to be thorough.

They lay together like that, panting hoarsely over the arm of the throne, before Glanni piped in with a shameless. “I'm not sure I'm going to survive a week of this.”

“Too late for that now.” Íþróttaálfurinn purred. He relished the power he felt, looking forward to his monopoly on his lord's time, his body. As much as his oaths weighed him down, Glanni felt to him like drowning, and he couldn't possibly drink enough of him in.

 

“How do you even manage to cum so much?” Glanni whined, rubbing sticky thighs together.

“I thought you did your research on ruts. Basically all other functions get put on hold. Men have been known to die during a rut.”

“I'm dying. I'm just disappointed that my heat hasn't started.”

“Oh, it has, you just haven't had the fun parts yet.” Íþróttaálfurinn licked his neck, heart racing at the heady mix of pheromones buzzing through him at the contact.

”Well, I guess the fact I'm not completely disgusted by your stink has to mean something.”

“It means you're mine.” He rumbled, covering Glanni's body with his own.

“Really, again already?” Glanni tried to scold, failing to smother a laugh as he wrapped his legs around Íþróttaálfurinn’s stocky body, breaking off into a moan as he felt his much abused muscles straining open again. He was loving every second of the vacillation of pleasure and pain.

 

Glanni realized that he'd succumbed to the throes of heat after he felt Íþróttaálfurinn come into him yet another time and realized that they hadn't separated from each other during their last several couplings. His body wasn't feeling tired, boneless or raw despite that he should long since have become immobile from sheer exhaustion if not the lovely covering of bruises from repeated contact.

They consumed what seemed like gallons of water at a time, unable to stomach food, and slept for a scant few hours. “This must be what the living dead we created must have felt like.” Glanni groaned one afternoon.

“I wouldn't doubt it, except that I doubt that they enjoyed it as much as we are.” Íþróttaálfurinn agreed hoarsely.

“Jesus, I just noticed how much your balls have swollen.” Glanni commented, reaching out to fondle them.

Íþróttaálfurinn flinched and swore, his shaft nearly instantly hard. “You have no idea, I ache constantly with the need to fill you.”

“God I love the way you look like this.”

“I know you love me using you like this.”

“Oh love be real, who’s using who in this situation.”

“We'll find out.” He growled, ramming himself deep.

~

“Christ!” Swore Robbie at the sight of them.

“What happened? Are you all right?” Alex asked, just as shocked but considerably more concerned.

The two figures leaning against the throne were gaunt and painted with bruises. “We're fine.” Glanni sighed. Íþróttaálfurinn made a dismissive grunt.

Robbie sniffed the air suspiciously as Isan appeared. “Íþróttaálfurinn went into rut and Glanni triggered himself into a heat.”

Alex looked further baffled. “We went through both simultaneously but neither of us looked half that bad!”

“We're not you.” Íþróttaálfurinn growled.

Glanni grinned, looking eerily skeletal. “We like it rough.”

“There's a difference between liking it rough and beating the shit out of each other.” Robbie shouted.

“Actually, I don't think we hit each other at all...” Íþróttaálfurinn noted.

“Yeah, you didn't choke me once. Pretty vanilla for us come to think of it..”.

“You did all of that, just from...” Alex paled.

“Fucking, yeah. We might have been a little overly enthusiastic.”

“Well did it work at least?” Robbie sighed.

“Please, even magic won't be able to answer that for at least a week and far longer before if we know it's viable. I kinda did a rush job on myself. No sappy love magic got us miracle babies.”

“Speaking of, the christening party is coming up and you wanted an invitation...”

 

~

 

Glanni felt a crushing pressure accompanying by rumbling. He growled the best he could with reduced lung capacity. “Íþró, please get off of me.” He struggled but couldn't quite manage to jab an elbow into the elf's ribs.

“Sorry.” Íþróttaálfurinn mumbled, rolling over and taking his slender partner with him.

“This isn't better.” Glanni groaned pushing futilely at the strong arms holding him possessively.

Íþróttaálfurinn simply continued to purr. Glanni huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, wincing at unexpected tenderness. Glanni wiggled and was struck with an idea. He carefully began to maneuver his hips in little circles, grinding his ass into the slumbering man's groin. He got a reaction fairly quickly, although first the grasp on him tightened.

One of the arms gripping him dropped down his belly, grabbing a hip before sliding over to cup his growing erection. Glanni groaned and pressed into the warm hand. His satisfaction at starting to escape was short-lived as Íþróttaálfurinn rolled them over again. “Good morning, love.” He grumbled into Glanni's ear, slipping between his thighs.

“And here I thought I was about to make my getaway.”

“I'll always track you down, Glæpur.” The warmth of the threat would be incongruous to an outside observer. Íþróttaálfurinn rose up, kneeling back to look at his partner. “You know, when I was younger, I always thought that I would end up marrying a short chubby little wife who would always mind me and look up to me.”

“She'd have to be pretty damn short to look up to you.” Glanni snarled. Íþróttaálfurinn slapped his ass sharply.

“I ask myself every day why it is that I love you, so opposite to everything I was meant to stand for...”

“Do you have a point or do you just like wallowing in self pity about my corruption of your moral fiber?”

“The point, Glanni,” Íþróttaálfurinn hissed, pressing himself purposefully into his hips. “You are a fight that I can't win, and the only way I get what I want is to surrender to you, giving you your pleasure, everything you want is what gives me purpose, gives me meaning. I'm reduced to a slave to your desires and I love it and I hate myself for it. You're my obsession, an addiction and I never want to be without you. It was the worst part of my life being separated from you, knowing that I had wronged you so badly and that you should have killed me... I thought I killed you... And I couldn't feel anything that mattered. I should have died...”

Glanni was at a loss with this confession, the honesty unexpected, the raw emotion. He wanted to laugh it off, had to justify it to himself as just loving to hear the praise and devotion, because something inside him was breaking. “What brings this on?” He managed unsteadily.

“You haven't noticed?” Íþróttaálfurinn asked softly, not trying to hide his tears. “You've gotten thicker.” His hands appreciatively cupped his hips and down his thighs, before grasping his ass. He moved his hands around to slip up his abdomen. “Your breasts have gotten tender.” Glanni whimpered at the touch. “Glanni, you're pregnant.” He whispered and the words sounded like a prayer. “You're going to bear my child and I don't know how I can deserve it, I can't believe that you still want me in your life.”

“Well... I'm just wondering when you were going to get around to getting in my body like you've been teasing.”

Íþróttaálfurinn laughed into his spine. “I seem to recall that it was you who started the teasing.” He began pressing inside achingly slow, holding Glanni's hips in place to prevent him from gaining more. “I keep my promises.” He nibbled along the fine boned back, pillowing his face into the newly developed fat deposits that did wonders to round out his figure. 

He'd noticed that his doppelganger’s mate had been a curvier man than his own, but only recently realized that it was a matter of conceit in Glanni's case, as much as his troubled diet and past starvation resulting in needlessly rationing his portions. After the ordeal of the rut he'd made it a point to encourage Glanni to eat more, even conspiring with Isan to enrich his meals. It secretly gave him great satisfaction to know that he could so visibly begin to alter his partner's appearance and the knowledge that the pregnancy would only make Glanni grow more was the most thrilling anticipation.

It was those thoughts that drove him during their morning sex, the immense pride and pleasure of knowing that he had fathered the child growing inside Glanni, that Glanni had so desperately begged for, that it was his, that Glanni was his, and of course that he was Glanni's.

**Author's Note:**

> I might slip in another smutty one shot of Sportarobbie postpartum sex but idk yet.


End file.
